Mudblood Mummy
by Soiree
Summary: Scorpius is born with his mother's love, and his father's refusal to accept him as a son. Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger - what have you let yourselves in for?
1. Request

**5 years ago.**

This was crazy.

_They _were crazy.

"Hermione," the woman took a deep breath, clutching the hand of her pensieve husband. "We want you to be the mother of our child." Unwittingly, Hermione's eyes flickered to the man and drunk in his facial expression. He looked very unhappy to be sitting in that chair, and wouldn't meet her gaze however many times she tried to make eye contact.

It would make sense, of course.

He wanted to have a child with the woman he married, not some stranger.

"Please Hermione," the woman vied for her attention, sucessfully dragging it away from her spouse. "This is a desperate matter. Draco and I have visited countless doctors, and they all say the same thing. My womb is barren. I won't be able to have kids." She broke off into a sob, that seemed to pain her husband more than her. He instinctively clutched her leg, and focused all his energy in kneading it with his bare palm.

Hermione had two seconds to collect herself together.

This had been quite an ambush.

"Astoria, I feel your pain but there are many avenues to go down. Adoption. IVF. In this day and age anything is possible-"

"Or find a surrogate mother," Astoria said, staring at her intently. "_You."_

Once again, Hermione was reduced to spluttering and trying to catch the eyes of Draco. He still refused to look at her. "This is a stupid idea," he muttered, withdrawing his hands completely. "I don't know why I let you convince me."

"Because it's _practical, _Draco," Astoria turned to her husband. "Her genes are perfect for a smart baby. Hopefully she or he will take after you in looks, but in every other way, she's the perfect candidate. No family history of illnesses. No sexual partners to worry over-"

Hermione would've said something, but Draco beat her to it.

"But it will be a _half-breed," _he hissed, like it was the most revolting thing on Earth. "You've asked me a lot of ridiculous things in the past, but this is up there. How do you expect me to sit comfortably in my grave, knowing some impure bastard is running around my estate, sullying it's title?"

"_Draco-"_

_"_Enough!"

Both heads snapped up to meet her, when Hermione slammed her fists on the table and stood up. They looked like a pair of children who'd just been caught theiving. Extremely mischievous but guilty at the same time. Well, that was more Astoria. Draco looked like he wanted to beat her head in with a hammer.

"You're having this discussion with the wrong person, I'm sorry." Hermione sat back down. "Plus I'm at work. I know my office is open to all kinds of wizards, but this is taking it too far. I'm not equipped to deal with this kind of situation. If I can refer you to-"

"You have a working set of ovaries, don't you?" Astoria sniped.

"I don't see how-"

"Astoria, we're going back home," Draco growled, bodily lifting his wife from the chair and _dragging _her across the room to the exit. The plaque winked at them on their way out.

_Department of Magical Maladies._

_xox_

**What do your prefer? Long, but slower updates? Or short, but quicker updates? All down to you, my friends.**


	2. Blackmail

_Whatever happens, do not give into my wife._

_-DM_

Something crunched underfoot as Hermione pushed open the door, into her dark and unwelcoming flat. She shut the door behind her, and turned on the light so she could investigate. On the floor, under her heel, was a range of pamphlets and mail that had been delivered throughout the day.

"Bin, bin, bin," she flicked through. "Ah! Money-off coupons, might need that."

As she reached the end of her junk, something fell away in a pale yellow envelope. It immediately caught her interest, because nothing was written on the cover. That was weird. Advertising companies would never let such blank space go to waste like that. Hermione bent down to retreive it.

It was from Draco Malfoy.

The words burned into her retinas, as she read it once and once again. Three months. It had been three months since she'd last heard from him, and this note was a jolt out of the blue. She let the parchment go, and it fluttered past her feet unoticed.

She had forgotten all about their situation.

For weeks afterward, Hermione had lain awake at night replaying their conversation. That day had been...bonkers. Astoria had barged in and plonked herself in front of Hermione with a whiff of desperation in the air. Draco had followed humbly in. There was no pre-meditation in their entrance. Astoria Malfoy and her husband weren't out to get her...

Right?

Awareness prickled her senses, like she was being watched. She jumped a foot in the air, when someone started banging on the door. "Go away," she mouthed, when the person ran out of steam. No such luck. It started up again, with relentless insistency.

Something told her it was Astoria outside.

It had to be.

Even Draco-bloody-Malfoy was concerned enough, to write a note!

Horror raced up her spine, when the pounding stopped and the person bent down to peer through her letterbox. Two eyes scrutinised her frozen form, before they narrowed and disappeared. This was it. Hermione's panting grew shallower. The witch was going to _Alohomora _her door into next week and back again.

Hermione's hand automatically gripped around her wand.

"PIZZA DELIVERY! OPEN UP YOUR DOOR!"

This time Hermione felt no dread, as she sunk with relief against the wall. Her paranoia was verging on ridiculous. Letting out a weak chuckle, Hermione directed the pizza delivery guy to the right flat. He thanked her through the letterbox and left, leaving a trail of pepperoni and ham in his wake.

She didn't want to be alone anymore.

Throwing a handful of floo powder into her fireplace, Hermione shouted out "The Burrow!"

_xox_

"Watch yourself, Hermione!"

Hermione ducked just in time, as a flying frisbee skimmed over her head and vanished into the emerald flames behind her. From somewhere deep within, she could hear the vase sitting on her mantelpiece; smashing. The expressions on Ronald and George Weasley's face were priceless, when she straightened up.

"Were you trying to decapitate me?"

"N-no," Ron spluttered.

"That would be our other product," George supplied, pulling out a board game. It was a bit like Cluedo, except players could stage their own death, and make it a "game for all the family." From the top of her head, the list included: garotting, gutting, slitting and asphixating.

What a lottery to choose from.

"Come on, Hermione," Ron held out a slimy capsule. "Experience death by defecation."

"Fantastic way to flush your bowels," George nodded enthusiatically. "I slipped one into Harry's tea."

"You didn't," Hermione clapped a hand to her mouth. "That's- That's-"

"Bloody brilliant?" Ron grinned, just as the victim of their practical joke walked into the room. All three of them went silent, as Harry deposited a bowl of potato salad on the table, and went to grab other food. Ginny triapsed in with utensils, an expectant buzz around her.

"Hermione! You came!" she smiled, spotting her friend. "That makes it a full house."

"Can I help?" Hermione moved forward.

Ginny stopped alligning forks beside their respective spoons, and looked up to the puzzled brunette. Hermione was blown away, by the amount of emotion welling up in the former Gryffindor's eyes. "Ask me that in six months," she choked, before turning back to the table and smiling. To say Hermione was confused, would've been putting it lightly. She pondered the cryptic answer, until other family members filtered in to join the hubbub.

Dinner passed smoothly for the most part.

"Hey Harry."

"Yeah?"

"I wouldn't touch that cabbage if I were you."

Harry ignored Ron, and guided some into his mouth. Ginny got to her feet and cleared her throat, which automatically made her centre of attention. Nobody noticed Harry's fork freeze halfway to his plate, as a pained but relieved expression crossed his face.

"I have an announcement to make. Harry, if you please."

"_Harry."_

The boy wonder rose like a trembling cobra, and clenched the side of the table tightly. Surely he wasn't...defecating? "This," he breathed. "Is the best moment of my life." A vein bulged in his forehead. "I mean, surrounded by family and friends..." His gut growled with the force of expelling diahorrea. Everyone gasped, as the first stench of cabbage swept the table in a nauseating wave.

"Seriously.." a bead of sweat trickled from his hairline. "The...best...moment.."

Ginny shouted out "I'M PREGNANT!" the exact moment her husband collapsed to the floor in apparent death. The next few seconds were full of chaos as hell broke loose.

_xox_

"Merlin," Hermione said, back in the relative safety of her home. Harry had come round, thankfully, but refused to speak to anyone. Hermione used that as a propagation, to say her "goodbyes" and get the hell out of there.

She put the kettle on, and moved around the kitchen, to make a late night snack. It was a habit, that served her well in getting her prepared for bed. Speaking of snacks, Crookshanks had left his dinner untouched, which was very unlike him.

Her eyebrows shot up.

She knew exactly where he would be.

"Crookshanks," she hissed, after exiting her flat to double round to the back. This was where the communal bins were, and the darn cat loved rummaging through them on a daily basis. "Crookshanks," she hissed again, aware some vagrant was lying on the ground.

Tell-tale amber eyes glowed in the darkness, and Crookshanks shot off into the dark.

"Great," Hermione sighed, throwing her hands up and turning to go back in. A scream caught in her throat when she realized someone was blocking the way. It was a woman- dressed in a white nightgown and black hair drenched to her shoulders. She looked like she'd been in the rain for _hours._

Astoria.

"Hear me out," Astoria grabbed hold of Hermione's forearms. "I still want you to be the mother of my child."

"Three months," Hermione repeated incredulously. "_Three _months and I haven't heard a word from you. And suddenly you're outside my home, demanding the world? Why now? How did you find this address?"

"It doesn't matter," Astoria shook her arms. "None of it matters. Come with me to St. Mungos right now. The procedure will be quick and painless. All you have to do is donate some eggs."

"NO!" Hermione wrenched her arms out of Astoria's grasp, just as a significant _pop _told them someone had apparated onto the scene. Draco hurried out of the darkness, to push Hermione aside and get to Astoria.

"Where have you been?" he demanded harshly. "You've been missing three nights! Look at you. One would be forgiven to think you're not the esteemed bride of a Malfoy, but the lovechild of a ghost and a harpie."

_Three nights? _Hermione gaped in the background. _Please don't tell me she's been standing outside my flat for three nights!_

_"_You!" Draco furiously twirled on her. "Why are you pandering to my wife? Dirty, filthy mudblood."

Hermione's breath left her in a sharp exhale. It felt like she was being punched in the gut repeatedly.

"Did you not get my note?" he continued ranting. "Don't you know how to read? GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!"

The simultaneous moment Draco spat the last word with a purple face, Astoria fell in a heap behind him. Abandoning his attack on Hermione, Draco rushed over to his wife's side. "Get over here," he barked. "Fix her." Hermione rushed to Astoria's other side, and felt for a pulse on her neck.

"Take her to St. Mungo's," she said firmly. "NOW."

Hermione didn't get the chance to remove her fingers from Astoria's neck, before she felt the first tingles of side-long apparition. They were squeezed through a tube, and rematerialised outside the hospital. Draco ran to get a healer, whilst Hermione supported Astoria after him.

They were guided to the second floor, where Draco told Hermione to "Wait outside" before following his wife into a cubicle. It was an anxious wait for all parties. Finally- Finally!- Draco emerged to tell her the news.

It wasn't good.

"My wife has contracted a flesh-eating bug," he sneered, like it was all her fault. "She's refusing treatment until you have donated some eggs, and I have supplied some sperm. This is all your fault, mudblood."

"How is it!" Hermione shot to her feet. "Your wife is the master-manupliater here. She clearly wants our reproductive organs, so by jove, she'll get it! You slytherins are a lousy bunch."

Draco gave her a nasty look, before handing over a potion. It was the colour of pink mist that swirled and congregated in the middle of the bottle like glittery stars. In his own hand, was a crude cup that was obviously meant to be filled up with sperm. He shook it at her, before stomping off to "privacy."

Hermione closed her eyes, a small prayer leaving her lips.

"Please Merlin, let him be infertile."

_xox_

A few days later, Hermione was staring glumly out of the window in Starbucks. Her finger would cover the rim of the cup, before switching to shred paper napkins. At this rate, her frappachino would cool before her thoughts ever came to a conclusion.

In the background, Ginny was chattering.

"We have a feeling it's going to be a boy. Harry really wants to call him James, if it is. Our second son would clearly be called Albus," she joked. "Following the dead theme and all."

Hermione nodded with disinterest.

"You seem a million miles away, Hermione. Something plaguing your mind?"

She nodded again.

"Oh, _Hermione. _What is it? Lover issues? I'll tell my brother to stop being so inattentive and drop by, once in a while."

"It's not that!" Hermione caught the tail-end of the conversation. "I was just wondering...just wondering how it feels like to be pregnant." She finished tamely. It wasn't that, but it hit close enough to the sore topic for Hermione to be interested. She watched Ginny beam in realization, and knew she didn't get it at all.

A letter was waiting in her bag.

_Dear Hermione Granger,_

_On behalf of S__t Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, we request your presence this Friday to confirm your results of In Vitro Fertilisation. If the results are positive, you will be required to go on a course of hormone-inducing drugs rightaway. Included is a meal plan, because it is hard work for any new mother to find the correct balance to eat for two people. We wish you the best of luck._

_-Department of Magical Births._

Today was Friday. Hermione closed her eyes. She didn't want to go.

But she had too, didn't she? She had a duty of care to see if Astoria's scheme had worked or not. Part of her, didn't think it would. Malfoy was a great believer of blood purity, and hated all things mudblood. It would make sense if his sperm hated her eggs too, and avoided it altogether.

Hermione was clasping at straws now. She knew sperm didn't discriminate against race.

If a fertilisation was meant to happen, it would.

Finishing off her coffee, Hermione walked Ginny out to the street before disapparating to St. Mungo's. Malfoy was waiting outside for her, supporting a sickly Astoria against his shoulder. He looked so angry to be there, Hermione didn't bother greeting him, and walked inside with her head held high.

After a moment, both of them followed.

"Ah yes," the healer said inside his office. He picked up a paper, and glanced at it. "Good news, Mr and Mrs Malfoy. Out of the five eggs your surrogate provided, two of them have been sucessfully inseminated with Mr Malfoy's sperm."

Draco let out a strangled gasp, and dropped Astoria's hand.

"There's more. It would be wise if your surrogate started taking drugs, so her body has less chance of rejecting the embryo. We recommend today. If all works out well, you could be looking at twins in nine months."

"_Twins!" _Draco choked. "_Twins."_

"This is fantastic, Draco," Astoria turned to her husband with brimming eyes. "We can finally have our own children to look after. Isn't this what we always wanted?"

"Are you going to accept this?" Draco turned to Hermione. His grey eyes had no trouble meeting hers; and clashing. "What the hell are you on, mudblood? Say no, and bum Weasley."

A cloud of red washed over her judgement. In that split second, an irrevocable choice was made.

"I give my consent," she said calmly. "And fuck you, Malfoy."

_xox_

**I'm a little worried, because stories are being deleted across FF/net. Should I rate this story M to be on the safe side? Also writing for me, is a continual feedback system. Please tell me what I did well. Please tell me what I can improve.**

**Thank you  
x**

**Shamz**


	3. Motherhood

It's funny how a few words could change your life forever. Hermione was combing her hair in the mirror, when she stopped- put the comb down and turned to examine her profile. Her stomach was still smooth- concave even- and whispered nothing about the miracle happening inside.

She ran her hands over the dip in her pelvis, before snatching them away, when the flames behind her turned green.

"Hermione," Astoria chided her, dusting the ashes away. The scary nightgown was gone, to be replaced by a rich emerald suit. Astoria couldn't look anymore alive, or happier. "You know you're not meant to be standing on your feet. Get back into bed!"

"I have work," Hermione said, refusing to be bossed around. "I'll be sitting on a chair, if that helps?"

"You know that's not the same," Astoria moved to pick up a framed photo on the mantelpiece. It was the one where her parents were celebrating their 25th wedding anniversary outside Birbeck Castle. She put it back, without saying anything.

Hermione wondered if Draco even knew what an anniversary was.

She only wondered, because Astoria was still gazing wistfully at the picture. Her parent's would've been extremely flattered but embarrassed by that in-depth stare. "Can I ask a question?" she asked, before Hermione could sneak off into the fireplace. "What's the secret of long-term marriage?"

"Ask the office singleton, why don't you," Hermione joked, before actually considering an answer. "I don't know. Ahh...having something in common perhaps? Take my parent's for example," she nodded at the mantelpiece. "They're both dentists by trade, and will discuss it with you until cows go home. They were truly made for each other."

"But I can't _do_ real estate," Astoria made a face.

"Excuse me?" Hermione was unsure. "Are we talking about someone in particular?"

"No, no. Say hypothetically, both the man and woman pride themselves on looks. They even share a mirror over the breakfast table- is that something in common?"

Hermione was still clueless to whether they were talking about a real person or not. "Uh, _theoretically, _I would say this couple was destined for failure. Shallowness can only connect people for so long, before the thread breaks."

Astoria's expression was undecipherable.

"Take your vitamin supplements. I'll be back later on in the evening."

_xox_

The next morning, Hermione woke to blood on her bloodsheets. This would've been understandable if the blood was part of her monthly cycle- but her period had stopped weeks ago. She didn't need it anymore. She was _pregnant._

Hermione didn't fly into a panic straightaway.

The last thing she wanted was for Astoria to swoop down from Malfoy Manor, and stifle her with concern and overlty fake-tenderness. She could handle this situation herself, thank you very much.

Gathering the bedsheet as evidence, Hermione departed for St. Mungo's with it tucked under her arm.

This early in the morning, there was no-one she could run into, that would question what she was doing there. Except the healers of course, but then, that was their job. They led her into a cubicle, before running off to collect important results. When they came back, it was with Astoria and Draco.

"For goodness sake," Hermione sighed, plopping her head back to the pillow.

Astoria's head was covered in curlers, and Malfoy's nipples were playing peek-a-boo. To say they were dishevelled, would've been putting it nicely. They were blinking the remaining sleep out of their eyes, and gazing at her like she was an octopus. A smidge later, Draco remembered who she was, and GROWLED.

"Keep a wig on, Draco," Astoria said mildly. "The healer wants to tell you something."

"We've had to revise our prognosis, Mr and Mrs Malfoy. It looks like we won't get our twins after all. One of the embryos has failed to attach to Miss Granger's womb, and passed through her urea naturally. We now have to make sure the remaining one is safe."

The women reacted quite differently, to their male counterpart.

Both of them gasped, whilst Draco began to smirk. "Guess I didn't have to push you down the stairs after all," he addressed to a shell-shocked Hermione, which clearly set Astoria on edge. She swatted at him so hard, that Malfoy had to stop covering one one of his pecs, and rub his arm instead.

"Stupid witch," he muttered.

"You berk! Which bit of _your child is dead, _didn't you understand?"

"A bit of an over-reaction," Draco was miffed. "Who cares if something that never saw the day of light, will never see the day of light? My mum had miscarriages all the time. Get over it."

"Gh! Gh!" Astoria started hyperventilating, choking at her husband's words. Draco instantly switched from cool indifference to a caring husband, in a heartbeat. He gathered her up in his arms- old movie style- and watched Astoria fan herself with a hand.

Neither noticed the big, fat dollops of misery, trickling down Hermione's cheeks.

After a prolonged minute, Astoria disengaged from her husband's arms. "Stay here," she ordered, like ordering a dog. "I need to go back and change my clothes. Hermione's in a really fragile mental state right now, so help her. Help her, like you help me."

Malfoy turned to give the Gryffindor a patronizing glare. "Look, she's fine! You don't need my help, do you? No, you don't. Let's go." Astoria stopped Draco, with a glare of _her _own. They could both see, plain as day, Hermione having a horrible meltdown. Draco would stay, and that was final.

"Are you that upset?" Draco asked, when they were alone. It was like a contagion of foot-in-mouth syndrome, and he couldn't stop spewing out crap. Hermione wanted to have revenge of her own.

"Imagine what my friends would say, when they find out you got me pregnant," she hiccuped. She snuck a peek at Draco's face. The resulting look of horror that followed, was well worth it.

_xox_

Hermione was starting to show. She couldn't keep this from Harry and Ron forever. It felt wrong to have lied to them so far, but it would be even worse, if she dropped a sprog and didn't tell them about it. Hermione didn't know why she was so adamant-

It wasn't like she was going to keep the child.

"Guys," she announced one day at The Burrow. "I need to ask you something."

"What is it?" Harry's eyes skipped over her appearance.

"Do I look different? At all?"

"No," Harry frowned as Ron nudged him in the ribs with delight.

"Give over! She's clearly put on some weight! Someone been hogging all the pies right, Hermione? You should've taken the defecation pill while you had the chance."

Harry bristled. "Stop talking nonsence."

Ron put up both his hands as if to say "Go ahead, and don't let me stop you." Both of them settled into a judgemental silence that was hard to break. Hermione found herself unable to say the words, that made her come here in the first place.

She had wanted to escape the flat, because Astoria and Draco had taken over. They wanted to make her some "nourishing soup" which reeked of suspicion. The two slytherins wouldn't know a saucepan, if it came and "boinked" them on the head repeatedly. When she left, she even caught Draco holding the tip of a wooden spoon like it was contagious. How the _hell_, were they going to make her soup?

It was laughable.

And they were probably going to burn down her kitchen.

Not for the first time, Hermione felt regret. Regret about everything.

Why had she chosen this path?

"So, are you going to tell us or what?" Ron said impatiently. "Because I need to leave in two minutes."

"Oh," Hermione blinked. "This was a bad time. Sorry."

She got up after Ron, and used the fireplace right after him. He was probably flooing to the Ministry, to ask if he could make defecation pills for the mass market, or something. Hermione shook her head. She wasn't going anywhere near as glamourous.

The first thing that hit her, when she arrived home, was the stench of leek.

"Careful!" Astoria said, hurrying to help Hermione to the sofa. "I thought I told you to quit flooing everywhere? All that impact momentum is going to have a bad effect on the baby." She got down on both knees, and started talking in a ridiculous cutsy-wutsy voice to her belly. "My little serpent's all curled up in her chamber, isn't she? Just waiting to come a-slythering out!"

"What if it isn't a girl?" Hermione panted, holding onto the back of the sofa.

"Well then," Astoria winked up at her. "That's daddy's job."

Hermione nearly keeled over in hilarity, when Draco slouched of the kitchen decked in chef gear. He was dressed head to toe in a flowery apron and matching hat. The sulk he wore, topped off with the whisk held in one hand, painted an unusual picture of domestic bliss.

"Get over here, daddy! Come greet your son!"

Draco walked over to Astoria, but something made him refuse to kneel in front of Hermione. Astoria practically had to force his hand to leave his sides, and place it on her stomach. Hermione refused to accept the serotonin rush, when she felt his heavy palm splay across her skin.

"Here you go, little serpent," Astoria cooed. "Pappa has come with his coils to protect you."

The baby kicked. Swear to Merlin. The ONE moment Hermione didn't want her unborn child to be a traitor, and look what happens. Draco stopped scowling. A light went on behind those eyes. It was a scary sort of light. Intelligent but illuminating to it's core. _Draco had felt it._

"Here now," Draco said sharply. "The bastard kicked."

He didn't get to elaborate, before Astoria pushed him angrily to the side. "Liar! He didn't kick for me."

"Maybe he doesn't like you," Draco said helpfully. "Let's get rid."

_xox_

Nothing had changed but everything had changed. In the past few months, Astoria had been drifting further and further. In her place, it was Malfoy who was moping up her sick, and touching her belly whenever it was unrequired of him. He was almost stealing the role of motherly concern.

And this was very worrying.

She wanted Astoria back. Merlin, she couldn't believe she was admitting it. But she wanted the raven haired witch to come back, and for the blond ferret to be gone.

Hermione could barely see her toes now. The once svelte size eight she sported, had ballooned to a size fourteen. Ok, so maybe that wasn't _that _bad. But she had cravings all the time now. Her breasts felt highly sensitive. Even someone could lightly brush past her, and it was enough for her to scream.

Being pregnant _sucked._

But it was the best experience of her life at the same time.

It was the reason why she was currently in a Muggle Supermarket, searching for pickles. Seriously. Out of all foods in the world, her baby had to crave _pickles? _Hermione parked her trolley to reach the high shelf, and that was the moment her water broke.

ASTORIA!

She was being wheeled along on a trolley. That was weird. Wasn't she just pushing one? No, this was a _different _kind of trolley, the kind of ones they use in St. Mungo's. Draco Malfoy was running beside her, and of all things, holding her hand. Hermione feebly tugged, not wanting to hold hands with a serpentine.

_But he just wouldn't let go._

"Get Astoria," she said, watching him read her lips. She felt undeniably pathetic.

"She's coming," he replied shortly.

They wheeled her into a birthing room, and a healer checked down there. He popped back out with a silly little grin on his face. "Your dilation is at 10 inches, Miss Granger. Very reasonable. You might even be able to push soon."

Draco nearly broke her hand, by trying to get _down there, _but she wouldn't let him. This time it was her, who was clutching his hand as hard as possible, so all the blood rushed down his arm.

"Don't you dare," she said through gritted teeth, just as the first waves of contraction hit.

The keening wail she produced, was the indication for the healer to shout out "PUSH!" Draco was holding her hand so hard, it hurt. But she was holding _his _hand so hard, it hurt. Why were they hurting each other?

"PUUUUSSSSHHH!"

She couldn't do it. No, she _wouldn't _do it.

Her water had only broken a hour before. Whatever happened to those ten-hour labour pregnancies she kept hearing about? No, scratch that. If this blasted boy came out sooner rather than later, she would weave a hula skirt and dance with it in Hawaii.

Sweat drenched her clothes, as with a final push, and a final roar, a baby slipped out in a mess of blood and placenta. The healer hurridely cut his umbilical cord, wrapped him up in a cotton blanket, and gave him to Hermione.

That moment her son entered her arms, transcended to the top spot.

Everything paled in comparision.

Malfoy watching, with the back of his palm against his mouth.

Astoria, coldly glaring from outside the Birthing Room.

Hermione gazed down at the little palm reaching out for her. She placed an index finger near his digits, and brimmed with joy, when they closed around her fleshy knuckle. This was her son. He was perfect.

A door slammed in her peripheral vision, and Hermione caught Astoria standing at the foot of the bed. Draco walked around the corner, and draped a hand across her shoulder. She knew both of them were staring at her now. Hermione wondered what they saw- was it a new mum, tired but glowing? Or a shapeless mess, that created an eyesore?

Hermione's hands tightened around her baby, before letting go.

"You can have him," she said, averting her eyes. She would not cry. She would _not _cry.

"I don't want him," Astoria dismissed. Hermione's eyes bulged. This was the first time she was hearing this. Desperately, almost with plea, Hermione looked at Draco to talk some sense into his wife. But his expression was the same. It was closed off; and guarded.

"What?"

"I've changed my mind," Astoria said out loud. "Can't I do that? First, I wanted a baby. Now I don't. It's a bit like shopping, though this took awfully long and I got bored, sorry."

Malfoy.

She looked at him.

He had to object. He had too.

"Couldn't agree more," he quirked an eyebrow. "Motherhood suits you, Granger. You clearly want the child and we clearly don't. It would make sense to sign the birth certificate under your name."

"But-"

They were leaving. No, they couldn't leave! Hermione would've sprinted to the door ahead of them, and blocked the way, but there was a certain someone in her hands. She could only watch, with a logged heart, as Astoria and Draco Malfoy walked out of her life for the final time.

_xox_

**WOW-EE. Sorry. That was a super-human effort. Just sat here, and plugged that in one go. I'm not the kind of person who writes chapter 5, then 2, then 7, etc. I have to write it in order. Else I can't write at all! Your response last time was very detailed (all of them) and which is why I wrote this IN ONE DAY. **

**If you recreate that response, there's no telling what can happen :P**

**Shamz  
x**


	4. Deceit

**4 years later.**

"Miss Granger!"

"Yes?"

Hermione looked up, never hating herself as much as she did then. Rita was going to send her somewhere stupid- like investigating a nargle infestation behind a toilet u-bend. Ever since she joined The Daily Prophet and let her Ministry job go...she had felt herself sinking in a pit of despair. Her previous salary had been excellent...for one person. But now with an extra mouth to feed, she needed a job with flexible hours and good pay.

Rita better enjoy this, while she still could.

Once Hermione started writing more serious articles, her crediblity would shine through.

Sighing, Hermione reached for the toilet plunger and hard hat. It was a good thing she wore wellington boots this morning, because it looked like it was going to be a long day. Like a pro, she slammed the helmet over her tresses and hefted the plunger over her shoulder. She meant business.

"No need for that," Rita bustled past, "Looks like you've got your first centre spread."

"Don't toy with me, Rita," Hermione said through clenched teeth. "Your prank is getting a little old. Just tell me where I'm going, and how big the infestation is."

"Seriously," Rita blinked, looking owlish. "You have a centre-spread in Wiltshire. They want you to interview a family member of the deceased, and make it an exclusive. I would lend you my Quick-Quotes Quill but..."

"Stop," Hermione fanned herself. "Your kindness is too much."

"Right." Rita didn't know what to make of that. "A portkey's being arranged to leave in half an hour. Take that ridiculous hat of your head and start drawing up questions. Chip chop. Don't delay."

Hermione had half an hour to familiarise herself with the situation. The death had occured a week ago, but The Daily Prophet had only caught wind of it now. The name on the paper shocked her. _Astoria Malfoy. _Apparently she had slipped in the bath, and banged her head against the rim of the bathtub. Her body had been found naked by a house-elf, and the burial was two nights ago.

The Malfoy family was in attendence.

Hermione's blood ran cold. No wonder Wiltshire rang a bell. That's where Malfoy Manor was, and had been the marital home of Draco and Astoria. And she had to go there? _Now? _No, she couldn't do it. This interview could be assigned to someone else- and she could go home and snuggle up with her son.

So what, if Astoria was dead?

She had washed her hands off them a long time ago.

But something under her skin was itching, and burning with curiosity. She almost felt relieved when Rita denied her permission to leave, and told her to write the article or get out. She _wanted _to confront Malfoy. Had to know if he had any part to play in bumping his wife off.

Hermione guaranteed herself that Malfoy wouldn't be in floods of tears when she got there.

And she was right.

"Mudblood," Draco said, opening the door after her fifth knock. "Don't tell me you're the latest reporter to rifle through my bins. Why don't you people get the message? I'm not interested in doing any interviews. I don't need a bunch of rats nosing through my business so kindly tell them to piss off. There, you have my quote."

Hermione didn't say anything.

She was in shock.

In the past four years, she had run through numerous, absurd ways of running into Draco. Both of them, crashing trolleys in a supermarket. Draco, bumping into her at the theatre. All these situations were absurd, because a Malfoy would never step foot in these places. She always imagined she was the superior one. He would ask her, condescendingly, if her life was going to plan. And she would reply, sacharine sweet, absolutely.

But why was he acting like this?

He was treating her like they'd only shared a Potions Class yesterday.

Yet, the difference in their appearances couldn't be anymore contrasted. Malfoy now sported shoulder length hair, and resembled his father something fierce. He was twenty-one when she last saw him. Back then, he still looked like a cunning school-boy. Hermione, on the otherhand, looked like a strict schoolmistress. One, many boys would dream being stuck in detention with.

She got on her tiptoes, and peeked behind him.

Malfoy realized what she was doing, and tried to slam the door. But Hermione shot out a hand, and stopped him. "Did you kill her?"

"You're mumbling."

"Did you?"

Hermione was glad Draco never got to knew her son. Seeing him here, like this, confirmed how misfit he was. Malfoy didn't deserve to know his son. Probably forgot about him the moment he walked out that hospital door. And now she would wrench that interview out of him, and never come back.

"Ah! They finally sent a reporter out!"

"Mum?"

Narcissa floated down the staircase, coming to a stop beside her confused son. Hermione was convinced she was seeing double, with them lined up like that. The elder woman reached out and pumped Hermione's hand, not realizing it was someone she once ratted out to Bellatrix.

"We're ready to provide the exclusive, the entire world is waiting for. Come in! Come in!"

Shooting a triumphant look at Draco, Hermione followed the woman into their lounge. She had to act very hard, not to wince when she saw the spot she was tortured in. Narcissa called out for a house-elf to bring some tea, and seated herself, Draco hovering in the background.

"So Miss Granger. Where would you like to start?"

Hermione hiccuped, throwing a hand to her mouth. So Narcissa _did _remember who she was. There was no accident about her being lead in here. Draco began to look interested, and sat beside his mother. Now they were both staring at her again. The father and grandmother to her child.

"Well?"

"Mrs Malfoy-"

"I should leave you two alone. I'll come back later with the tea."

Just as Mrs Malfoy reached the door, it was pushed open to reveal a house elf struggling with a tray. He was forced to back-peddle, when Narcissa quickly stepped out and closed the door behind them. Hermione was left in silence to stare at Draco. Both of their faces remained blank.

"Well?" Draco echoed his mother.

"There's lipstick on your neck."

"Excuse me?"

Hermione pointed at the incriminating evidence, planted on Malfoy's neck. Unless he hadn't washed in the past week, it was pretty unlikely it belonged to Astoria. That meant he was having an affair before her death, or he found solice in the arms of a equally sad woman. Either way, Malfoy was damned.

"You killed her, didn't you? Discarded her like a piece of trash?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You're disgraceful, Malfoy. I won't be needing anymore quotes from you. Once I've published this article, Azkaban will come looking for you. Better enjoy your sleep while you still can."

"_Are you out of your mind?"_

Hermione remained silent.

"I didn't kill her! I never touched a hair on her head! And she bloody well knew it. You have to do better than that, Granger. If I wanted to kill a spouse, it would have been a lot more inventive than slipping over in the bath. That's downright boring."

Her eyebrows shot up. That's the first time she'd heard a death described as "boring." In distancing himself from the whole thing, it made Hermione's suspicions rise by triplefold. He didn't display the classic symptoms a loved one would have. Only a pyschopath would laugh more than Malfoy.

If Hermione had Rita's quill, it would jot down: _Tells blatant lies to cover his tracks._

"That's all I need for now," she said crisply. "No need to show me out."

Hermione strode over to the door, and tugged it so harshly, that Narcissa was caught unawares. She straighted up, in an attempt to shield her eavesdropping. She even turned to the elf, waiting tirelessly by her side, and relieved him off the tray. The elf bowed and disapparated back to the kitchen.

"That was quick!" her laugh tinkled. "Just in time for tea!"

"Not quite," Hermione disagreed, and longingly stared at her escape down the hall. It was pretty clear Narcissa wanted to corner her for something - but what? The answer became clear, when she was ushered back into the lounge. Astoria had died, without leaving a heir to the reputable Malfoy estate. They were using this column space, to advertise for a potential new wife.

"Draco's getting on a bit." (_He's only 25, Hermione thought.) __"_And was left childless from a previous marriage. We ask for a new bride between the ages of 18-35 to apply. She must not have any ferility problems and come from a pure bloodline. We can't have any riff-raff walking in to be Mrs Malfoy. Sorry dear." Narcissa smirked, knowing full well Hermione would be rattled. But she dutifully copied down the request to the letter. Let the entire world see how desperate the Malfoy's had become.

"Finished?" Draco abruptled asked, looking agitated.

Hermione met his gaze, and gave him a slow patronizing smile. "Yeah," she nodded, meaning the opposite.

_xox_

At last she was home. Hermione kicked off her wellies, and padded into the living room. Her son was having an intense conversation with Albus Severus, and James was trying his best to distract them. Ginny was snoozing on the sofa, her belly swollen in the last stages of pregnancy. It was going to be a girl this time. The name already decided.

Scorpius spotted his mummy, and ran over for a hug.

"I want to be in Gryffindor," he whispered into her ear. Hermione laughed, and ruffled his hair. Sometimes her son was pure comedy. Especially since he was the minature version of Draco, and should be demanding Slytherin. She took great pleasure in making him the anti-thesis of his father.

"My little man," she hugged him again.

Scorpius wiggled out of her grip, and ran back to his friends before they began to tease. She watched them for a few moments, before shaking Ginny awake.

"Go home," she whispered. "I'm here."

The redhead responded with a yawn. But she quickly collected her belongings, and called James and Albus to her side. "The picnic's at one tommorow." Ginny told her. "We're holding it behind the burrow. Richmond Park dropped out of contention yesterday. There's too many muggles to perform magic."

"I understand," Hermione nodded.

"Well better put the kids to sleep. Long day tomorrow."

They shared a secret smile, before Ginny disapparated into the night with her children. Scorpius ran past, probably heading to his bedroom. She followed him in, just as he held out a storybook from his bed. "I want this one." She took it from him lightly and read the cover. _Cinderella. _Her son certainly had a taste for classic literature.

He fell asleep halfway through chapter four. Hermione closed the book, and placed it on the nightstand. She tenderly stroked his hair, analysing the small features that belonged to her. The dimples. The smile. The way he curled up in his bed.

So what if he had platinum blond hair?

And arctic grey eyes?

The love that shone through his eyes were real. It made him a sunny person to be around, instead of the cool iceberg his looks could dictate. Hermione planted a soft kiss on his forehead and left the room. It was time both of them got some rest.

_xox_

"Remind me again. Who is his father?"

Hermione's hands froze by the paper cups she was stacking. This was a question she was well accustomed too. Every year, Harry or Ron will try to catch her off guard by casually asking who was Scorpius's father. It was like they expected the answer to change everytime, but it never did.

"I told you. A scandinavian I met on holiday. He died in a car crash."

"Have you told Scorpius?"

"No," Hermione glared. Her web of lies didn't need to extend to him. "It doesn't feel right."

"_Feel right?" _Harry was nonplussed. "You forget the Dursleys lied to me about my parents dying in a car accident for the first eleven years of my life. Turns out they were murdered by Voldemort. I never did get over that."

"I'm sorry," Hermione said, her gut wrenched in two directions. She could sense the anger and betrayal, even now, fourteen years into the future and across the snacks table. But she couldn't stray from the the original. Harry would leap on it, faster than a flamingo, and blow her "holiday romance tale" into smithereens.

"It's okay."

For a while, both of them watched the children chasing each other in the distance. They were a blur of black and ginger, and occasionally a brilliant platinum shone through. Harry knew blond was a popular hair colour. But there was only one family he had met in his life, that even came close to that shade...

Harry voiced his thoughts.

"If I didn't know any better, I would almost say he's a Malfoy."

He didn't notice Hermione's hand slip with the ladle. Suddenly she was pouring fruit juice down her top, and not into the cups like she meant. She uttered a curse, and quickly magicked the stain away. If Harry saw...

"But I do. And I trust you, Hermione. You wouldn't lie about something like that."

The guilt was being layered on thick. Why was it suddenly so hot outside? Hermione ran a finger around her neck, and fidgeted with the ladle still in her hands. She didn't know what to do with herself, as Harry prised the item from her grip. He continued filling the cups, with startling speed.

Hermione felt like crying.

"Why don't you sit down," he grinned over his shoulder. "You've been rushed off your feet lately. I'll bring a cup over in a minute."

Now, she _was _crying.

Hermione turned her back to disguise her tears. She didn't sit down like Harry suggested, and instead walked back into the house. All the hands on the Weasley clock were pointing at "Home" - except for two which were pointing at "Work." Charlie was now in Trinidad, and Percy was just a workaholic. The "Fred Weasley" hand was completely missing, before she realised it was tucked under George's, moving in unison.

This made Hermione cry even harder.

She couldn't let the children see her like this, or anyone else for that matter. It took her a good few minutes in the bathroom, before the tears stemmed, and her face began to regain colour.

"Damn you Astoria Malfoy," she whispered into the mirror. "This is all your fault."

The mirror cracked.

* * *

**Thank you for all the reviews**

**-Shamz**


	5. Bug

They met in an upmarket restaurant in town, arranged by their respective mothers. Draco continued sipping his water, as a sultry vixen walked in through the doors, and every eye in the room went to her. She walked with a brimming confidence, knowing she looked a million dollars in her sleeveless black number.

"Draco," she greeted civilly, sliding into the chair opposite.

"Mary-Beth," Draco acknowledged.

He waited for her to order, before placing an order of his own for king scallops, and a side of lettuce. He noticed that none of the items on the menu, had a price list, which was so typical of a rich place. Mary-Beth lent forward, and a waft of expensive perfume swam up his nose.

Draco desperately tried not to sneeze.

"So," she purred, "I hear you're an accomplished man."

"Yes." Modesty was for fools.

He jumped, when a hand stroked up his thigh and the tips of her fingers grazed his crotch. She wanted to have sex with him. Too bad he was already meeting up with someone else tonight. Draco reached down, and gripped her wrist in a steel vice. Mary-Beth gave a whimper, when he returned her hand back to her side of the table.

"You don't want me?" Rejection coloured her voice. "I'm not attractive enough?"

"You're a perfectly well-formed lady," Draco swigged a glass of wine. "But it takes more than tits and arse, to interest me anymore. Maybe if you lift up your dress, I can take a proper look?"

Five hundred galleons were saved, when Mary-Beth threw wine all over him. He was left spluttering in her wake, as she stormed out of the restaurant with her nose held high.

"Sir? Should we still place the order?" a worried waiter asked.

"No need," he wiped the wine dripping from his eyebrows with a handkerchief. He wrung it out in an empty glass, and tucked the piece of fabric back into his pocket. The entire restaurant was watching him, as he threw ten galleons on the table, and walked out into the crispy night air.

Another suitor dispatched.

He dreaded the day Granger's article came out in The Prophet. Then his weekly "dates" will be pushed into daily ones, where he had to sit through stiff conversation and false banter, just to fuck the bitch. He didn't want any of it. Astoria was woman enough, to experience the highs and lows of any marriage.

Not to mention her dratted sister, Daphne.

When Draco arrived home earlier than he should've, it was to be met by an irksome woman lounging in his bed. Somebody had bowed to her pressure, and pointed Daphne up to his room. She was dressed in stockings and stilettos, and very little else. "Hello Draco," she finger-waved. "It's been a week."

"Will you quit throwing yourself at me?"

"Not until you give in."

She toyed with the tassels, that crowned his favourite pillow. Draco wanted to throw a hissy fit. Nobody touched his pillow unless they were aiming for a deathwish. Daphne squealed when he stalked over to the bed and climbed over her. He used both hands to gently pry the tassel from her claw-grip.

"You want it that bad?" he whispered against her neck. "Then why don't you touch me?"

Daphne touched his face.

"Not there. Lower."

She ran her hands over his pectorals.

"Getting warmer."

Fighting back a giggle, Daphne touched a place so intimate both were surprised when it gave a jerk. A quiet zipping noise, made Draco groan and push his head into the pillow when her warmth enveloped him. She was flexing his junk, in a way that was maddening but promising.

"Sizzling hot," he breathed into her ear. "You're practically on fire."

"I love it when we play this game," Daphne beamed.

A short cough from outside his bedroom made the both of them freeze. Draco pushed her away so fast; Daphne screeched when she hit the floor. He couldn't even look at her. He picked up the duvet from the bed, and threw it over her body so he could answer the door.

"Yes mum?"

Narcissa was dithering by his door, working up the nerve to confront him about his date. "So?" she looked extremely excited. "Mary-Beth was a nice girl. Did you have a good time?"

"Depends on your version of good."

"Oh _Draco," _her face fell. "I worked so hard to get her parents to agree. Did you at least get past the starter?"

Her son continued leaning against the wall, barring access into his room by draping his arm across it. His silence confirmed everything. However many dates or prospective fiancée's she lined up, he was going to dismiss them all. Draco married Astoria obediently enough. What had changed since then and now?

"The five hundred galleons," she asked coldly. "What did you do with it?"

"Spent it all."

Like he was actually going to admit it was sitting in his pocket, saved for a rainy day.

"I am very peeved with you, Draco. Please excuse me whilst I go and lie down in a dark room."

He watched her shuffle down the corridor, not feeling an ounce of pity. If she was going to force him through wine chucking demons, the least he could do was demand compensation. Draco closed the door, and noticed Daphne sitting up and glaring at him. She held up a pouch, which he instantly recognised with the big "M" embroidered on it.

"You went on a date?"

"Give that back."

"And then tried to fuck me after you got back?" Daphne wasn't listening to reason. She noticed Draco circling the bed, and jumped up on it brandishing a wand. "That was low. Even for you, Draco."

She jumped off the bed, just as Draco pounced. So whilst Draco was spitting feathers out of his mouth, and trying to orientate himself, Daphne had ran over to the fireplace and summoned green flames. "If you really want your money back," Daphne said across her shoulder, "Then meet me at Diagon Alley at 6 tomorrow. Word is that a D. Greengrass is planning a shopping spree at Madam Malkin's. Sweet dreams, boy-toy."

He watched her go, with bursts of light flaring in his pupils. The fight was gone from him.

_xox_

"_Reparo," _Hermione repaired the crack in the mirror, and checked her reflection one last time. She didn't look like she'd been crying at all. Squaring her shoulders, Hermione marched back down the stairs, and through the kitchen. Harry was casting his eyes around, trying to see where she went.

Bless him.

"You shouldn't have," Hermione accepted the cup of fruit juice.

"Says the girl as she gratefully takes a sip."

The drink was cool as it slid down her throat, and perfect for a summer's day. They were going to Diagon Alley later, because Teddy wanted to buy an owl. Harry wanted to join his godson, and was taking the whole family along. The invite extended to Hermione without question, and she would be a fool not to accept.

Plus Scorpius deserved a day out.

"Is Ron coming?"

"He said he'll meet us there. Apparently he needs to pick up something first."

Both of them contemplatively studied the grass, as their shadows grew thin and vanished. Harry looked up, and decided postponing the trip would be a bad idea. At this rate, they would be tripping into Eeylops Owl Emporium when the shops were closing for the day.

"Ginny!" he called. "The kids are getting impatient!"

"Speak for yourself," Hermione snickered under her breath.

"I heard that," Harry scolded.

"See you there," Hermione departed stage right, calling Scorpius to her side and offering her hand. Ginny was at the back door, ushering in the trouble-makers so they could make the floo-journey first. There was clearly a subliminal message, as a floo pot was offered under Scorpius's nose.

"For me?" he grabbed a handful, excitedly.

"Careful Scorpius," Hermione guided his hand. "Throw it into the flames."

"Can I say Diagonally? _Please, _Mummy?"

"Maybe it's best if I do it this time." Scorpius sulked under her armpit, until green fire erupted from the hearth, and he did an excited little hop that made Ginny laugh. Hermione shot an apologetic glance- she should really stick behind to control the crew- but she couldn't risk leaving Scorpius by himself either.

"Diagon Alley," she pronounced loudly and succinctly, so Scorpius could spot the difference from _Diagonally._

Scorpius had other things on his mind.

The moment they arrived at The Leaky Cauldron, he ran off to engage Tom the barman in a conversation. Even more cringeworthily, Ron was nursing a butterbeer over a hot plate of food. Ron tried to hide his face as Hermione descended, but eventually gave up when she sat next to him.

"Well this is awkward," she raised her eyebrows. "Harry told me you were getting something."

"I _was."_

"Clearly." She picked up the bottle of butterbeer, and read the ingredients label. "Ooh. It contains alcohol."

"Does not!" Ron snatched it back, and quickly glanced at the label much to Hermione's amusement. Yes, it did contain alcohol but not enough for Ron to blush over, and make excuses. If he _really _wanted to get drunk, Firewhisky was the more cheap and viable option.

"I bought you something," he mumbled, pushing a brown package across the table. "It's nothing big."

"Is that what I think it is?" Hermione scooped up the book, and held it to her chest. "Ron, you shouldn't have!"

"Open it." The tips of his ears went bright pink.

She reverently peeled back the paper, wondering which delights waited within. The dark and bruised copy of _Hogwarts: A History, Second Edition _lay under her inspection, and she quickly discovered an aged signature from Professor Tomkink on the inside cover. She ran her fingertips over it, marvelling at the sentimental value.

This was the most thoughtful and amazing gift Ron had given ever.

"And that's not all," Ron blushed. "I arranged a private meeting for you to read the original sometime next week. The location should be familiar. It's a secret annex at Hogwarts."

She planted a kiss right beside Ron's lips. "Oh Ron, I love you!"

"Save your confessions for after Flourish & Blotts," Ron grinned. "Professor Marchbanks has released a book called _The Trials & Tribulations of O.W.L.S, _and is giving away free copies as we speak!"

"Scorpius," Hermione gasped. "Come here!"

"Why is mummy acting so funny?" he grumbled soon afterwards, not wanting to leave Tom behind.

"It's because she's a woman," Ron tapped his nose. "They all act like that past a certain age."

_xox_

He was waiting outside Madam Malkin's at 6, like she suggested. But she was nowhere to be seen! Draco stared down the Alley, wondering if Daphne had given him the slip by shopping elsewhere instead. Just as he was about to go investigate, Draco realised a female shopper was being fitted for robes inside.

His mouth dropped open.

The mare had bloody cheek!

"You made it," Daphne twirled, when she noticed Draco looming over the threshold. "Do I look good in this?"

She was dressed in emerald green, with silver needlework covering the hems and sleeves. In the back of his mind, it registered maybe she was dressing up for _him. _They were Slytherin colours after all, and she usually veered towards baby pink or dusky purple. Draco noticed the robes were finely cut, and neatly tailored to Daphne's shape.

He soon found out why.

"450 galleons?" He lifted up the pricetag, fighting a heart attack. "Everybody looks good in 450 galleons!"

"That's what I thought," Daphne confirmed, examining her reflection in the mirror. "I've already sent the invoice to your mother, as well as the receipt, so it's only fair you get the change." She nodded at the dresser. "There you go. You're in deep trouble either way. Might as well splash the cash!"

Draco touched his lips to see if he was actually frothing.

"You vindictive little-"

He was cut off by a well-timed interruption by Madam Malkin. She emerged from the store-room, holding a bag of clothes that Daphne came in, so she could walk out with her new robes. He plastered a pleasant smile on his face and greeted her by name. "Mr Malfoy," she rubbed her hands together. "Your presence has sorely been missed!"

_You mean my cash._

"What I lacked in corporeal form, I certainly made up for in monetary value," he hugged Daphne to his side.

"Very generous of you, Mr Malfoy. You have my eternal gratitude. 450 galleons is what I normally earn for a week."

_Any chance of a refund?_

Madam Malkin looked conspirationally from side to side, as if she was trying to catch invisible eavesdroppers. Before leaning in, and beckoning the couple to mirror her pose. Daphne snorted, but Draco felt some type of sick satisfaction when he pushed her head forward with his fingertips.

"I shouldn't really advocate someone else's business," she whispered. "But in token of your kindness, it's only fair you head over to Flourish & Blotts for a limited supply of free copies. Apparently old Marchbanks has released a book. In fifty years, they could fetch up to 6,000 galleons! So hurry, and don't dally."

Daphne yawned, and asked if she could floo straight from here.

Draco let her go. There was no point keeping her under his heels, when the damage was already done. He stepped out into the bright sunlight, and noticed a queue snaking out of Flourish & Blotts. Nothing was advertised on the windows. Griselda only wanted a small crowd, that were loyal enough to spot the short column in _The Daily Prophet._

When no-one was looking; Draco pushed in behind a squabbling couple and pretended he was standing there all along.

Maybe his mother would appreciate this book, and conveniently forget about Daphne's liquidation.

At some point, the crowd moved from outside the blustering heat, and into a cool, dank interior. He allowed his eyes to adjust, when he felt something small brush by his leg and race towards the front.

"SCORPIUS! Scorpius, get back here!"

He noticed the queue was looking back at him, so he followed their example, and searched for the unseen parents waiting behind him. Draco shrugged, and placed his hands behind his back, already bored. Some little kid had pushed in at the front. If he was that size and age, Draco wouldn't hesitate to do the same. Being a grown-up certainly had its disadvantages.

"Hey! Control your kid!"

The next thing Draco knew, a little kid was being shoved into his abdomen. One half of the squabbling couple, had taken it upon themselves to march to the beginning of the line, and drag the rascal back by his ear. Instant panic winded him. He offered the boy straight back, with a half-hearted plea. "He's not mine."

"Oh, give over! He looks _exactly _like you."

Draco glanced down, and was disconcerted to find a miniature copy staring right up at him. He had blond hair. Check. He had a pale, pointy face. Double check. The _only _way he didn't resemble him, was when tears welled up in those achingly familiar eyes. Scorpius didn't like this grown-up. Draco was ogling him like he was a bug.

"MUMMY!"

"Merlin's balls," Draco dropped to his knees, and held out both hands. "Use your _inside _voice."

"MUMMEEEE!"

The little bastard still insisted on using his outside voice. Draco only had to look up, to realise people were judging him. They didn't think he could control a kid. They didn't think he could control _his _kid.

"Only see him at the weekends, huh?" The guy said sympathetically. "That's custody for you."

"Leave the poor guy alone." His wife was tugging his sleeve. Suddenly the squabbling couple, had transformed into a tranquil couple, united for a brief period of time before the next fight.

"For the last time," he protested. "He's not my kid! It's not even the weekend!"

Scorpius spotted his mother battling against the crowd, in order to sweep him up in her arms. The people were having none of it. They kept thinking she was trying to get a better place, and pushed her time and time again. Eventually Hermione saw an opening, and took it. She darted to Scorpius's side, and lifted him up in a bear hug.

"Mudblood!" Draco said with some relief. "Have you come to relieve us of this nutcase?"

He was still on his knees.

Hermione glared down at him, bracing Scorpius's head against her shoulder so he could rest there. It was weird to see her fingers delved into his blond locks. Draco lifted up a hand, and dug it through his _own _hair, feeling like he was missing a very important piece of the puzzle.

"All those years I was afraid," she ranted. "What if we ran into you here? What if we ran into you there? But seeing you here, now, makes me realize a heavy brick could beat you over the head, and you'd _still_ be wandering around in oblivion. How can you forget things so easily?"

Draco was still opening and closing his mouth, long after the mudblood vanished into the noises of Diagon Alley.

"The divorce papers will reach you soon," the man patted him consolingly, before he launched into an argument with his wife. Draco was still frozen on the ground. Griselda's well-wishers stepped around him, collected their book, and shook their heads piteously at him as they left the store. Some-one even tucked a spare copy into his waistband.

It took a long time for his lower lip to tremble.

* * *

**The response was muted last time, so it took me a long time to get round to writing this. Thank you to those who DID review. This chapter is for you x**

**See you next time, whenever that is.**

**-Shamz**


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